


Symbiosis

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Bandom RPF/Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Blood Play, Car Sex, Dom/sub, Friends With Benefits, Gang Bang, Knife Play, M/M, Orgasm Control, Pervertibles, Power Exchange, Rough Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27761488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: Johnny needs a ride and has an unexpected experience en route.
Relationships: Adam Lambert/Tommy Joe Ratliff/Johnny Weir
Kudos: 3
Collections: Kink Bingo 2011 (Round Four)





	Symbiosis

**Author's Note:**

> The following series was originally written to make a kink bingo "T." Thanks to Racheal for beta-ing the first four bits!

1\. (Prompt: "vehicular")

Johnny's famous enough not to trust just anyone to give him a ride from San Diego to LA, but not rich enough to spring for a plane ticket last minute, and he's too nervous a driver to rent a car. A friend of a friend hooks him up with Adam and Tommy, who are making the drive Saturday morning, and he mentally dubs it the glittermobile even though his traveling clothes are a white tanktop and frayed navy sweats and his makeup is strictly daytime wear.

"This your boyfriend?" he asks Adam as Adam graciously gives him the passenger seat.

"Fuck buddy," Adam and Tommy say in unison, and Johnny laughs as he climbs in. Tommy spends ten minutes bitching at Adam for making him drive, then twenty minutes asking Johnny random shit about skating and New York while Adam takes a scheduled call in the backseat. When Adam hangs up, they all three end up in a conversation about nothing in particular, and if Johnny wonders why Tommy doesn't insist on trading places if he hates driving so much, he doesn't ask.

Adam and Tommy are interesting enough, but things get more interesting halfway up the I-5 when Adam offers Johnny twenty bucks to suck his not-boyfriend's dick on a dare.

"Shut up, Adam," Tommy says, as Johnny raises his eyebrows at Adam in the rearview mirror.

"Fifty."

Adam's sitting there in the middle of the backseat without a belt, legs spread wide, smirking. He takes his time pushing his hips up, fishing out his wallet, and counting out two twenties and a ten. He shoves the cash in Johnny's hand, and Johnny puts it in the small pocket of his bag, pushes his shades up. He hears Tommy's sharp inhale, watches his fingers go a little white on the steering wheel, but there's no objection as he twists in the seat and gets his head under Tommy's arms. There's something to be said for being small, sometimes.

Adam can't get much of a view from where he's sitting, so Johnny feels somewhat triumphant when he breaks his cool demeanor to lean up and over Tommy's shoulder, watching Johnny lick his cock half-hard, and then fuller, sucking on the head as he uses his hand to compensate for an angle that won't let him deep-throat. Tommy's got a nice dick, thick, feels good in his hand and even better is Tommy's quiet litany of fuck-fuck-fuck as he pulls into the left lane and revs up to ninety. They're all fucked if they get pulled over like this, but Johnny's perfected his innocent look over the years, and he's been desperate to get laid lately. His schedule's almost worse than it was when he was training, except instead of Galina's iron-willed admonition not to have sex, ever, it's just exhaustion that keeps him away from it. Now, he's still tired, but he likes knowing that Adam's staring at him as he sucks, that Tommy's having a fuck of a time keeping it together. There's just the slightest swerve of the car to the shoulder, a slam of Tommy's hand against the top of the steering wheel when he comes, and then Johnny's sitting up, primly wiping his mouth, and beaming at Adam.

He only starts to wonder if this is orchestrated when Tommy's hand drops, easy-as-you-please, to click his seatbelt open, and strong hands on his biceps are yanking him back, between the seats, ass-up-awkward into Adam's lap. Tommy's got a nice laugh, he thinks as Adam's hand clutches at his ass. Then he stops thinking.

2\. Prompt: "pervertibles"

When Adam and Tommy both have to be in New York for a week, they end up staying with Johnny in his Jersey apartment. It's easy enough to put them up, not too awkward, even if his fingers do itch to go behind them and clean sometimes. One night, they all get drunk on wine, and as usual, Johnny's drunker. Tommy starts talking about how hot Adam is, and Johnny just laughs.

"Kinda. Yeah. S'not my type, though," he argues, half-sprawling on Tommy with one hand higher on Tommy's thigh than straight boys allow. Johnny's always enjoyed cuddling with queers.

"Shit, man, you're crazy," Tommy exclaims, sort of head-butting Johnny's neck. He's been an affectionate puppy all night, and Adam joked that the two of them are made for each other, absolutely no sense of personal bubble. "What do you mean, not your fucking type?"

Johnny shrugs and makes a vague gesture in the air. "I like manly guys. Really... big," he says helplessly. Adam's just watching them with amusement now from the loveseat, fiddling with this polished wooden sculpture Johnny has that he finds hilarious because it's _so_ phallic. It was a gag gift, but Johnny kind of likes it.

"Dude. Adam's _big_ ," Tommy snickers.

"Not his _dick_!" Johnny squeals, sitting up and smacking Tommy's arm. "I mean, big all over."

Tommy smiles. "You're drunk. He is big all over."

"Yeah, but... glitter," Johnny says, as if that explains everything.

Tommy leans in with this evil sort of smile, hair falling in his face, and lays a hand on Johnny's thigh. "He will make you feel _so_ small," he purrs, and that shouldn't make Johnny run hot all over, but it does.

"How drunk are you?" Adam asks, idly running his hand up and down the sculpture. Johnny shouldn't bat an eye, given the number of times he's watched Adam grope a mic stand or Tommy's bass on YouTube since he met them, but he still can't take his eyes off of the sculpture, or the way Adam licks his lips and makes it look like he's jacking his dick.

"Moderately," Johnny mumbles. Tommy's hand creeps higher on his thigh.

"He's gonna fuck you so fucking hard," Tommy murmurs in Johnny's ear, before he grabs Johnny's dick. He's not hard yet, but it doesn't fucking matter.

"Not too drunk to consent to adult activities?" Adam's voice has dropped a little, husky, and this is different from the thrill of a car speeding up the I-5. This is his own home.

"Fuck me," he begs, and Adam laughs, rising to his feet. His movements are languid, and for all Johnny had tried present himself to Adam as an equal, as a cocky son-of-a-bitch, he gets that feeling you do when someone lets you win. Adam's very good at being in control.

"Stand up," Tommy whispers. "Take off your jeans." Johnny does, underwear too. Adam grabs him hard by the back of the neck and despite all those YouTube videos, he can't be prepared for this, wasn't prepared in the backseat of that car and isn't now. He can't be, because Adam's got him tight by the back of the neck and that's almost sexier than his kiss, that feeling of being held in place just to be taken. He's standing in his living room, naked from the hem of his t-shirt down, feeling so exposed, and Tommy's pulling his ass open, licking up over his hole. Johnny shudders and clings onto Adam's shoulders.

"Got you, baby," Adam smiles. He is _not_ going to let himself get too addicted to the way Adam takes control. Tommy probably already is addicted to it, but Johnny doesn't have to be. Shouldn't be. Probably will be. "You ever fucked yourself with this?" He's still got the sculpture, and Johnny's eyes widen. It's phallic, sure, but it's got a kind of twist to the wood, and the end is round but wide. It might feel good, that twist against his prostate, but he'd have to be crazy to try it. He shakes his head.

"He's gonna fuck you with it," Tommy declares, then spits directly on Johnny's asshole and works a finger in.

"Lube, baby," Adam laughs. "And a condom. He gets so ahead of himself sometimes," he confides to Johnny with a fond smile.

"It's not your dick you're fucking him with," Tommy reasons.

"I don't know how clean this thing is. Hey," Adam says gently, tipping Johnny's chin up with his fingers. "You got lube? Condoms?"

Johnny nods uncertainly. "Bathroom drawer." Is he going to go through with this?

"Go," Adam says to Tommy, his voice low and demanding on a single syllable, and as Tommy scurries off Johnny thinks _yes_. Oh hell yes, he is going to go through with it.

He tips his mouth up to Adam's, and they kiss for a moment, Adam's hand splaying on his ass with the sculpture held loosely in the other hand. He _is_ big, Tommy was right, and Johnny wants to melt into his solid frame. Instead, he lets Adam guide him over the arm of the sofa with a strong hand, firmly pressing him down at the small of the back, holding him in place as Tommy thoughtfully tucks a cushion under his cheek and then goes back to kneeling at Johnny's ass, working him open with lubricated fingers. Adam's hand strokes his hair, nails scratching his scalp as Tommy works at his ass, and Johnny starts to sink into the cushions, moaning softly with his eyes closed.

He doesn't count fingers, but he's nice and open when Adam works that wide, flared wooden head into his ass, stretching his muscles so it feels like they couldn't open any further. The sculpture is unyielding, not like silicone or a real dick, and he whimpers, feeling a little lost. The easy haze of the alcohol can't hold off that sharp, stretching intrusion, Adam's fingers stretching him open as he rocks the sculpture in.

It seems to go on forever, but one of them, Adam or Tommy, has figured out that he's flailing. The sofa shifts with Tommy's weight as he kneels down in front of Johnny, settling back on his heels and tossing the cushions away so that Johnny's chin is pillowed on his thighs instead. He angles his cock down, into Johnny's mouth, and as it breaches Johnny's lips the widest part of the sculpture is finally past the ring of his sphincter muscles. He lets out a moan, the relief almost like an orgasm, his mouth closing around Tommy's cock.

"Yeah," Adam groans. "Suck him." Johnny blinks up at Tommy and Tommy's looking desperate, rocking his hips with little half thrusts that push his cock around in Johnny's mouth but don't quite make it to his throat. Johnny's neck is straight enough now that he could manage it like he couldn't in the car and he pushes his head forward, trying to encourage. Tommy gets it, thank God, fists one hand in Johnny's hair and uses the other under his throat to lift him a little, improve the angle. Johnny's so vulnerable like this, and it's so right.

"Fuck, I wish you could see your ass right now," Adam exclaims, and Johnny feels absurdly proud. The wood nudges a little deeper, and suddenly the twist is against is prostate and he makes a sound he can't voice with Tommy's cock sliding into his throat.

"He could. Take a picture," Tommy suggests.

"Huh. Can I?" Adam asks, and Tommy eases out of Johnny's mouth long enough for him to answer.

"If you don't show my face," Johnny replies, and then Tommy's dick is right back between his lips and it's all so perfect, the way they keep it safe but don't give him much leeway beyond that, the feeling of being worked over and used, the click of Adam's cell phone camera. He shows the picture to Johnny, casually holding the phone where Johnny can see it as if it were a picture of his kid or his dog, as if Tommy's cock weren't filling his throat, as if they weren't plugging him up good from both ends. He sees his ass open wide in the imperfect colors of a poor quality photo without sufficient light and he chokes on a little whimper. Adam ruffles his hair and keeps fucking him. He is so gone.

3\. Prompt: "obedience"

Adam's flight back is in the morning, but Tommy still has a few more days. After breakfast they end up sitting on the sofa, sipping coffee, nursing Johnny's hangover. "So," Tommy cracks a smile. "Is he manly enough for you now?"

Johnny snorts a laugh. "It was hot," Johnny concedes. "Still not my type."

"Yeah," Tommy snorts. "But you don't fucking care, do you?"

Johnny laughs and shakes his head. He can admit that much.

"I know you're a bitch-ass diva. I'm a punk-ass jerk. Still nice to feel tiny sometimes."

Johnny grunts his agreement and sips some more French roast.

"Next time, you've gotta get him to fuck you." After the makeshift dildo, Johnny had given Adam a blowjob while Tommy jerked him off. After _that_ , sleep was pretty much the only thing he could think about.

"Yeah?"

"Oh fuck yeah." Tommy beams.

"How kinky are you, anyway?" Johnny asks, toeing at the remote on the coffee table.

"Pretty kinky. What'd you have in mind?" Tommy wiggles his eyebrows and Johnny laughs, shaking his head.

"I just mean... I'm submissive, in bed. I like to submit. I like... a lot of stuff."

"Yeah," Tommy smiles, trailing a finger up his thigh. "I know. Me too."

"You too?" Johnny raises his eyebrows. "Why do you keep topping me, then?"

"Topping you?" Tommy frowns. "Baby, I haven't topped you once."

Johnny frowns. "Sure put your dick in my mouth a lot."

"Yeah, cause he wanted it."

Johnny's eyebrows shoot up again. "You didn't?"

"Baby." Tommy smiles, leans in to kiss Johnny's jaw, rests a hand on his chest. "Of course I did. I just... I knew he wanted it."

"So in the car?"

"Oh, yeah." Tommy laughs. "Kinky motherfucker. Yeah."

"Damn." Johnny thinks about those times, about the idea of an order in advance, or a secret language of gestures and looks that told Tommy to make himself available, to let Johnny suck his dick.

"Damn," Tommy agrees, reaching between his legs to adjust himself. Johnny follows the movement with his eyes, licks his lips.

"Fuck. I've gotta get him to fuck me."

"Like I said," Tommy agrees, putting his mug down, starting to jerk himself off slowly. "I like you, kid. We go good together, all of us." That's as much of a romantic confession as Johnny's ever likely to get, but he's not feeling such a need for those right now. His principal need is for Adam's dick, and that's at JFK right now, so he gropes his own instead.

"What do you like?" Johnny asks as Tommy nuzzles up against his neck. "Bondage? Spanking?"

"Yep."

"More?"

"Hell, yeah," Tommy agrees, nipping lightly at Johnny's neck. "What about you, kid?"

"Fuck, everything," Johnny groans, tightening his hand. He nudges Tommy's temple with his cheek and Tommy grabs Johnny's head with his spare hand and they kiss each other hard and biting, thinking of Adam and each other. At some point their hands cross and they're jerking each other off, gasping for air. "Fuck," Johnny gasps as he gets close. "I can't... I wanna..."

Thank fuck that Tommy's a mind reader, because he's fishing for his phone before Johnny finishes the thought, and it occurs to Johnny hazily that this isn't the first time Tommy's done this. He doesn't take his hand off Tommy's dick.

"Ello?"

Tommy puts it on speaker. "We need to come," he mutters into the phone, almost sheepish.

"Please," Johnny adds, closing his eyes and squeezing Tommy's dick.

Adam laughs, delighted. Adam is in the middle of a fucking airport. He replies in a low, dark tone that snakes through Johnny's body and makes every single synapse fire, like something out of his nightmares. "You can't. Hang up the phone and get your hands off your dicks," Adam orders. "I'll call you when I get to LAX."

"Fuck," Tommy groans.

"Yeah." Adam laughs again. "Good boys," he purrs, then hangs up. Johnny whimpers as Tommy pulls his hand away, still kissing him hard on the mouth because Adam didn't say he couldn't do that. Tommy yanks his head back by the hair and bites _hard_ , hard, hard on Johnny's neck. He screams and has to grab himself hard to keep from coming.

"Bitch," Johnny gasps. "You made me break the rules."

"I don't play nice," Tommy laughs. Johnny thinks that maybe he can live with that.

4\. Prompt: "subspace"

Sometimes, Johnny gets into these capital-M Moods. It'd be more convenient if it weren't happening in Tommy's apartment, with Adam there and Tommy not, if he could be somewhere private. But convenience is never a factor when it comes to a Mood, and so he's been a bitch for the better part of the afternoon, a bitch and a diva. At one point, when he's just pacing around the apartment, Adam offers something that might help and Johnny tells him to go fuck himself.

Adam _smacks_ him. Not playfully, not on the ass, but right across the face, and they stand there in Tommy's kitchen, just breathing, staring at each other. Johnny's cheek smarts and his pride hurts but the only thing he can make his body do is shove into Adam, tugging at his hair, kissing him desperately, pouring the hurricane force of his Mood into sex. That he can do, because sex is safe (maybe a little) and easy (maybe a lot).

Adam pushes off the counter, puts his weight into Johnny, and he falls back against the kitchen table. There will be bruises, but as he's helicoptering his arms, bent backward, off balance, Adam yanks him up by the front of the shirt, into Adam, and kisses him more like biting, more like fucking, and he fucking _wants_ to be bruised. That's when Tommy comes in.

"What the fuck? Hey!" he shouts, tugging Adam away. "Hey, get off of him, he doesn't need..."

"Tommy... Tommy Joe, it's not..."

"Fuck, Adam, he's tiny, he doesn't, take it out on me, you should..."

"Tommy," Adam says calmly, brushing back a lock of hair from Tommy's face. Adam's breathing hard and his pupils are dilated and Johnny doesn't know how he can _control_ himself in this moment, but the fact that he can is pretty fucking hot. "It wasn't me, baby," Adam murmurs, barely loud enough for Johnny to hear. "It wasn't me."

Tommy looks confused for a moment, and only then do his eyes sweep to Johnny, standing there next to the table, chest heaving, wanting to _punch_ something for that interruption. He looks for a long moment and then his face breaks into a slow smile. "It's him? He needs it?"

"Yeah." Adam nods, and Tommy laughs and waves a hand.

"Fuck, then, carry on. I'm gonna get a beer."

Johnny isn't sure how _to_ carry on--should he shove Adam again, just go right back into it with Tommy there watching? Adam turns and leaves the kitchen, "follow me" tossed gruffly over his shoulder. When Tommy winks at Johnny, he snarls back. Doesn't mean he doesn't follow, though.

"What the fuck was that?" Johnny asks in the bedroom. "What were you talking about in there?"

"Tommy," Adam explains. "Sometimes... I get in the mood you're in. Tommy takes it."

Johnny thinks about that for a moment. There's still adrenaline vibrating under his skin, hands clenching and releasing. "Does he like it?"

"Oh, yeah," Adam purrs. Johnny grasps at the hem of his shirt.

"What do you do?"

"Fuck him," Adam says simply. "Sometimes I whip him," he adds in a low, throaty voice that makes Johnny's toes curl. He's still out for blood, though. He still wants to hurt.

"Sure you're not all talk?"

Adam just laughs. His movements are slower than before, calculated. He rolls up his sleeves, strides over to where Johnny's standing. Johnny stares at him for a minute, and then he's flat on his stomach, shoved onto the bed, arm wrenched up behind him. "You're cute. You want me to hurt you?"

Johnny's mouth twists and he can't pick an answer. Yes, a little, maybe. He's not sure what he wants, exactly. He doesn't think he wants to be _whipped_ , though the image makes his dick harden underneath him. When five silent seconds pass, Adam yanks his jeans down his hips, grabbing a hold of Johnny's underwear and yanking upwards. The sound coming out of his mouth is, unfortunately, a really undignified squeal.

"Do you want me to _hurt_ you?"

Johnny whimpers and flails on the bed like a fish with his free arm, because Adam really needs to fucking stop that _ow_. "Stop," he gasps. "Please stop." Adam lets go and digs into Johnny's ass hard, nails first, pressing deep.

"Answer the question."

Johnny gasps. "Fuck me," he grates out.

"Say please."

"Fuck _you_ ," Johnny snarls, and then he gets flipped and Adam's holding him hard by the thighs, swallowing his dick. That should _not_ look like a dominant act, but oh hell it does. He's just staring, because Adam's a force of nature and he can't help but look. Adam yanks his jeans down, wrenches his thighs apart, slaps his fingertips right over Johnny's hole. He growls through his teeth, high-pitched enough to sound like a whine. Adam spits out his cock and stares directly at Johnny as he speaks to him in a low, quiet tone that's nonetheless firm enough to command attention.

"I'm gonna fuck you ass-up," Adam announces. "On your forearms and your knees. And you're going to take it like a good, pretty bitch."

Johnny doesn't like it, and he snarls again, but he finds himself unable to summon the urge to physically fight, unable to stop Adam from spitting on his ass and working fingers in rough and dirty. He uses some lube with the condom, lets Johnny see before he flips him again and yanks his hips back, forcing him into the position described. His cheek is squashed against the mattress, and Adam's cock is deep inside his ass before he starts to break down into it, whimpering and finally letting tension dissipate.

"Good boy," Adam purrs, then. "That's a good boy." Johnny's shocked by his own disinclination to argue, by how fucking _comforted_ he feels with Adam's big hand stroking his hair, his cheek, the back of his neck, soothing him and fucking him so deep his teeth rattle. Hard, driving thrusts, but slow, evenly spaced, with Johnny's head down and his body tilted in submission to Adam. "Good boy," Adam repeats, over and over, rubbing Johnny's lower belly firmly as he fucks him. Johnny's dick rubs against his thighs, the position straining his arms, but over time arousal builds and crests. Adam's hand strokes his throat as he comes, making him feel so vulnerable, so safe, so entrenched. He doesn't think those things go together but he can't remember, can't remember anything until after Adam's come, pulling out and turning him onto his side and spooning up behind him. Tommy climbs into bed with them then, kissing Johnny sweet and deep on the mouth. Johnny's starting to remember, but starting, at the same time, not to care.

5\. Prompt: "leather/latex/rubber"

Johnny can feel Adam's satisfaction right through his skin-tight leather pants as he sprawls on his side on the couch, his cheek pressed to warm thigh. If he didn't know that they were real already, the smell would give it away. That smell is all around him, Adam's pants and Tommy's and Adam's vest all close enough to overwhelm his nostrils. At the same time, there's Adam's soothing-possessive hand stroking his face, his cheek, his hair. The hand pauses, just a brief jerk of hesitation before it fists in Johnny's hair and directs him, cheek grazing side-to-side over the warm leather. Oh, fuck.

He can feel Tommy's anticipation, and though he doesn't really need it Johnny stretches his arm and grabs Tommy's leg for "balance" as he turns his head into a grip that lets his hair pull tighter rather than relaxing. Face down, he drags his tongue slowly, so slow, over the curve of thigh muscle inches from Adam's cock. "Fuck me," Adam groans, and then there's a rustle above him and Johnny can picture--but can't see, because Adam won't give his head that extra inch to twist--the kiss above him.

He's seen it enough times, the way Adam pulls Tommy's head back by the hair and fucks Tommy's mouth with his tongue. It's not quite like it is on stage. It's less showy, for one, lips pressed together when he does it. When Adam does allow space between their mouths it's not for the visible sliding of tongues against one another but instead for biting hard at Tommy's lips. Johnny hears the whimper above him and backtraces his path an inch higher, still restricted to a limited area by Adam's grip. He squeezes Tommy's thigh as he does it in a show of some kind of sympathetic submissive understanding.

Tommy's boots are leather, too, and so are Adam's. Johnny lets himself fantasize about that, about laying himself down on his belly on the textured coral-colored tiles and worshipping their boots with his mouth. He could get into that, but Adam's not letting him go too far, just an inch at a time as he directs Johnny down one leg to the knee and then up the other. Adam's filling those pants out well enough that Johnny's afraid the zipper's gonna break, but Adam lets him rub his cheek against the bulge as he listens to Tommy's moans above. He can't look up, but he can see Adam's hand inside Tommy's pants, slowly jerking his dick. Johnny's captivated by that firm, maddening rhythm.

He doesn't have to look enough to know that Tommy's head's still tipped back, that his throat's still exposed. Tommy simply doesn't need to fight back when it's like this. He opens up to Adam, yields in an experienced way that Johnny wants to learn. Johnny's hand massages Tommy's thigh, kneading at the leather, and his tongue kitten-licks Adam's cock until Adam opens his fly and finally lets Johnny suck him.

It's awkward, his neck twisting sideways, and he can't get it all in his mouth. It keeps slipping out, and after the first few times it happens, Adam seems to realize that Johnny kind of likes that. He likes the sluttiness of reaching for it again with his mouth, pre-come and spit smeared over his lips, the scent of leather still in his nose. Adam finally releases Johnny's hair and moves his hand instead to smack Johnny's lips with his dick, to feed it to him and then take it away in turns. He teases with his cock until Johnny's begging with his moans and slackjawed non-verbal pleas.

Tommy's really fucking turned on, watching this, Johnny can tell from the tension in his thighs. He's not going to come until Adam says, but he really fucking wants to.

Johnny milks it for Tommy, tongue reaching for Adam's cock, mouth slurping around the head when he gets it. He'll be the dirtiest fucking porn star Tommy's ever seen if that's what gets him off, and from the sounds of it, it is. When Adam comes all over Johnny's face, he whispers an order in Tommy's ear, and Johnny watches Tommy's hips strain to soak his underwear.

Adam's hand back in his hair, Johnny finds himself being dragged further across Adam's lap, face into Tommy's fly. Adam uses the renewed grip on Johnny's hair to rub his lips and nose around in it, and fuck if he can't stop moaning as Adam spanks Johnny right into his lap, demanding that he come with his dick rubbing all up against the leather. When he finally manages to turn his head, Tommy's eyes are closed and he's grinning brighter than a paparazzi flashbulb. All Johnny can really do is laugh.

6\. Prompt: "bloodplay"

Johnny knows it's deep between them when Adam's kneeling over him in jeans and no shirt with a wicked fucking blade carving a design into his hip. Except that's a lie, because this is no deeper, really, than Tommy going down quiet with Adam's hand at his throat, or than the three of them curled up deep under a duvet to escape hotel air conditioning, Adam's hands finding them even in sleep. Tommy and Johnny sleep together like puppies, every inch touching, and some of that is deeper than this blade splitting open his skin.

But right now, this is what he's learning, the sting of a cut and Tommy's thumbs pressing firmly into his collarbones, giving him a grounding pain to match what Adam's doing. His head is pillowed on Tommy's thighs and he's deep, so deep in his head. He didn't ask for this, not specifically, not by name, but Tommy figured out what he needed and he voiced his thoughts to Adam.

Now they're here, in Johnny's warm and dimly-lit bedroom, trusting each other.

Adam scratches out the whole design, a simple mess of curling figures no more than two inches across, before he digs the knife deeper in places, bringing more blood to the surface. He and Johnny are both OCD levels of careful about sterility here, skin and knife and hands cleansed with alcohol before they started. But they've all done tests, they've made promises that are a big fucking deal for men born in the 80s, and they've agreed to stick by them. So it's with full knowledge and consent that Johnny feels Adam's bare thumb pressing into the fresh cuts, hissing and arching as Tommy takes the knife from Adam and lays it safely aside on a towel, off the bed.

Once the blade is dealt with he can stop thinking, can just respond and ride the fucking gorgeous wave of pain. Adam grabs his chin with the clean hand, holds him tight enough to bruise and makes Johnny's eyes stay open through this with the force of will alone. It's Tommy who gets the impromptu idea to lube a couple of fingers and work them into Johnny, Adam who orders him to masturbate as Tommy fucks him like that. Johnny just stares into Adam's eyes, at his bloody fingers, and goes almost outside of himself when he comes. His eyes blink half shut but never leave Adam's, not _allowed_ to.

Johnny stays deep in headspace as they clean him and hold him, and tonight he's middle spoon, murmuring for them to hold him, hold him too tight. They do. Together, they've always been receptive to too tight, too hard, too much.

7\. Prompt: "bondage (wrists and ankles)"

There's still a dark pink tattoo of raised skin on Johnny's hip when they go shopping online for his very own set of leather cuffs for wrists and ankles, expensive and comfortably lined. The leather is butter soft, the D-rings gleaming as Adam rigs thin chain to the four corners of Johnny's bed. Adam's surprisingly handy, at least when it comes to stuff like this.

Tommy laughs as they watch Adam and pins Johnny up against his wall, under a framed photograph of Johnny's family, to kiss him breathless. Tommy likes to press his hands flat against Johnny's hips when they kiss, the heels of his hands fitting inside Johnny's hipbones, palms restraining him as his tongue plunders Johnny's mouth. It's kind of hot, hot like Johnny's hands in Tommy's hair, scratching, and the way that makes Tommy purr. Hot like the way Adam yanks him away, onto the bed, straddles his hips before he's really situated and slams a hand to the middle of his chest to kiss him lewd and open-mouthed.

"Gonna fuck him, Tommy Joe," Adam growls, and Tommy just laughs, wrapping Johnny's left wrist in the cuff. They move him together, manipulate him into place, and Johnny exhales a shuddering breath as strong, capable hands wrap around his limbs. This is what he wants, to be manipulated and held down and put where he's needed. When he opens his eyes, Adam's grinning like maybe he gets it.

"My prisoner," he murmurs, boyish grin lighting his face as his mouth caresses Johnny's calf. His eyes sparkle at Johnny until Tommy forces his head back and kisses him some more, letting him follow Adam's ministrations only by feel.

Johnny doesn't bother to yank at his cuffs. There's no point in testing them; he knows they're secure. Instead he builds a mental picture, reminds himself that he can't leave until they say, that they can do what they want to his body, that he has no control over this situation and won't until they give it back to him. He doesn't always like that, but right now it sounds pretty fucking awesome, especially as Adam starts slinking up his body, putting weight on him. Adam pushes Tommy out of the way to kiss Johnny himself, and Tommy gives a little growl that Johnny loves, that makes him flex his hand as if he could reach Tommy somehow. Adam grabs his dick and squeezes.

"Gonna be my sweet little captive tonight?" he purrs, and Johnny nods, glassy-eyed.

"Hot." Adam's big, boyish grin makes Johnny giggle, but the bite to his neck pins him and he pushes up into nothing, nowhere to go. Adam's body is holding him down from his shoulders to his hips, and the rest of him is cuffed securely in place. Tommy's dropping into one of his little moods, and his teeth are vicious enough on Johnny's ankle to make him scream.

"Hey," Adam cuts in, sharp, looking over his shoulder. "Quit being a brat." Johnny can picture Tommy's scowl, silently counts off five seconds before Adam says anything else. "Get your hot ass over here," he demands, and Tommy relents. Johnny gets to see a nice little make-out show, on their knees over him, and it's a little bit of a relief. Tommy might be in the mood to bite Johnny's dick off, and Johnny definitely doesn't want that. Instead, he watches Tommy shift from snarling and feline to almost limp, yielding, pinned by the invisible bondage of Adam's kisses even more than Johnny is by his literal seventy-nine dollar cuffs.

"Lick his cock," Adam purrs, and Tommy does just that, kitten licks, while Adam bites his nipples for contrast. Johnny closes his eyes and whimpers. It's going to be a long night.

8\. Prompt: "gangbang"

It starts with porn, as so many good ideas do.

Johnny's certainly never thought about participating in a gang bang, until Tommy sends him this link to watch when all three of them are in different parts of the country. Tommy's a motherfucking tease, is what he is, though even Tommy can't explain how Johnny pulls his hair in frustration and wants _so badly_ to be the boy in the video.

By the time he visits LA again, Adam has purchased a sling.

"Don't clench, boy," a gruff voice warns in his ear. The guy's big, oh fuck, so big, and though Johnny knows intellectually that the voice is Adam's and the thing in his ass is a dildo, it takes no effort at all to let that dissolve into fantasy. Blindfolded, spread and suspended, he's the center of a gang bang, available to any one of the twenty or thirty guests at this party. By the time Adam grunts, a few uneven sharp thrusts making him scream into the gag, Johnny believes that it's a stranger coming in his ass, that he's helpless to stop the onslaught.

It's three or four guys into the queue when a warm mouth closes around his dick, and he cries for mercy, trying to wriggle away but unable to move with bruising fingers tight on his hips. Another cock works him open and he remembers a scene from the end of Tommy's DVD, the euphoric look on that boy's face. Maybe it's just porn, but Johnny can't help but believe that the boy was genuinely blissed out on all the fucking, maybe in the same subspace Johnny's floating in now. A finger strokes the stretched out skin of his asshole, applying more lube, and he whimpers.

"Tommy's turn now, baby," Adam murmurs in his ear, no disguise to his voice now. "You took a lot, that was so good. Just two more."

Johnny nods enthusiastically, reaching with his tongue when Tommy's fingers brush his lips. Blinded, he recognizes slender digits by feel, tongue stroking over callouses and knuckles and across a sweaty palm. Tommy whines above him, and without an order from Adam fists a hand in his hair, bending down to kiss him right through the gag. A hand snaps the thing open, Johnny doesn't know whose, but he's absurdly grateful as Tommy kisses him without hesitation. His tongue brushes over Tommy's as Tommy jerks inside him, and finally it's Adam's turn.

"Good boy. So good, baby," Adam coos, and Johnny can hear the strain in Adam's voice. Four hands stroke his hair at once, brushing his cheeks and his forehead. Finally Adam pushes inside, and Tommy's hands tighten, wrenching Johnny's head back. Another deep kiss, punctuated by biting, and Adam fucks him fast, hand slipping between them and bringing Johnny off after only thirty seconds or so jerking his cock. His brain's moving at half-speed when Adam finishes and tugs the blindfold up, cradling him in the sling. He blinks and feels silly at his surprise when he finds the room empty except for the three of them.

"Good slut," Tommy grins, sloppily kissing his cheek. He giggles and nuzzles in, shaking his head. Adam just kisses him, holding the back of his head and keeping him close.

9\. Prompt: "cleaning/washing"

"You're... really fucking pretty," Tommy laughs, hand stroking through Johnny's hair.

"Bitch," Johnny giggles, nipping at Tommy's wrist. He's starting to come up from headspace, and he hisses at the sting as Adam cleans his cuts. It was Tommy's idea to re-open the same pattern from last time, and the scar really is going to be like a tattoo. A permanent mark, even if they never see each other again. Johnny finds himself surprisingly okay with that.

"Your bitch," Tommy grins, fitting his mouth to Johnny's and kissing him deep and dirty through the pain of Adam's attentions. "Both of yours."

"Damn right," Adam smirks. He's looking particularly pleased with himself, and Johnny can tell he's as much in topspace as the two of them are under. He gets up from the bed when he's done and disappears into the bathroom. By the time he returns, Johnny and Tommy are making out lazily, sprawled alongside each other. He laughs low and sexy and gently runs a warm sponge over their bodies.

"Mmmm. Do you do massages, too, handsome?" Johnny purrs, batting his eyelashes as Adam trails the sponge over his chest.

"Yeah, prostate massages," Tommy inserts.

"If you didn't practically _beg_ to be fingered with those noises of yours, Tommy Joe..."

"Ooh, zing," Johnny laughs. "He's right," he adds, scraping his teeth over Tommy's neck. "You make gorgeous noises."

"You just like it when I talk dirty to you. Slut."

" _Thank_ you!" Johnny exclaims in his campest voice. Adam rolls his eyes and tosses the sponge aside to straddle them, one knee snug up against Tommy's ass and the other at Johnny's hip.

"You two are impossible."

"Yes, Sir," Tommy smirks, giving Adam his best come hither look and then tugging Johnny up onto his side, pressed close with the gauze-covered cuts against Tommy's hip. Johnny hisses and then moans into a kiss. Adam's fingertip traces their faces from cheek to cheek, mouth to mouth as Tommy's tongue slips between Johnny's lips. Johnny's inner exhibitionist makes an effort to put on a pretty show, sighing happily as Adam bends down and kisses the back of his neck.

Yeah, he could get used to this. And maybe he already is.


End file.
